


A Window Opens

by romanticalgirl



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Came in through the bathroom window</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Window Opens

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/)**inlovewithnight** for the beta.
> 
> Originally posted 11-19-07

Ioan doesn’t think about Matthew’s bedroom door until the first time it’s closed. He stares at it, taking absentminded sips from his beer, tilting his head as if trying to decipher some deeper meaning in the wood.

He’s still there two hours later, beer warm in his hands with just a few swallows left in the dark bottle, when the door opens. Matthew scratches his bare stomach just above his boxers as he stands there, blinking blearily at Ioan. “’s that beer?”

Ioan nods. “It is.”

“Have some?”

He hands over the bottle and watches Matthew drain the dregs of it, following the path from the bottle to his mouth to his throat. “How long’ve you had a door?”

Matthew lowers the bottle, looking at him strangely. “What?”

“The door. When’d you get it?”

“You’ve gone daft, have you? I told your mum it would happen sooner or later, and now it has.” Matthew leans back against the wall. “It’s always been there, Ioan.”

“You’ve never used it before.”

Matthew shrugs. “Never really had the need.”

“And now you do?” Ioan watches as Matthew pushes off the wall and heads into the kitchen, tossing the empty beer bottle into the bin. “Matthew?”

“Yeah.” Matthew shuts the refrigerator door with his elbow and walks back to his room. He hands Ioan a fresh beer and salutes him with the two left in his hand. “Now I do.”

Ioan blinks, unable to think of an answer before Matthew closes the door.

**

Ioan doesn’t remember her name from one visit to the next, which serves to irritate her nearly as much as it does Matthew. He’d by lying if he said he tries, so he doesn’t say one way or the other. He doesn’t much see how it matters when her sole purpose in their flat seems to be to shut him out of it.

“What’s your bloody fucking problem?”

He looks up from the script in his hand, frowning at it as much as at Matthew. “Right now? Harold Pinter. Bastard never says anything right out. Bloody fucking annoying.”

“That’s _not_ what I mean, and you know it.”

Ioan glances around and sees that there’s no one else with Matthew, no one else in their flat. “Where’s what’s-her-name?”

“ _That_ is your bloody fucking problem.”

“Knowing where she is is my problem? Don’t know much about relationships, mate, but I’m relatively sure that’s going to cause a bit of friction between the three of us.” He knows he’s babbling, rambling on, but he can’t seem to stop. He’s not sure he cares to stop, if he’s honest, which he’s trying very hard not to be. “I follow her, she gets suspicious, blames it on you, you break up, no one tells me, I get beat up in an alley by some bloke named Guido. You see? No one wins, least of all me.”

“That’s not what I mean, Ioan, and you know it.” Matthew smacks him on the back of the head as he moves past the couch, rooting in the icebox for a beer. He opens it and glares at Ioan from the kitchen like some older brother laying down the law. “Her name is Moira.”

“Moira. Right. Of course.” Ioan nods and goes back to his play, keeping his eyes firmly on the book in front of him. He ignores Matthew’s tone, as always. “Moira.”

“It’s not that fucking hard.”

“Right. Moira. I’ve got it.”

Matthew comes over and sits on the opposite end of the sofa, shoving Ioan’s feet to the floor. “Yeah, so you say. But every fucking time she comes over you call her something else. Marilyn, Marian, Maria, Marie, Melanie. For Christ’s sake, Ioan, she thinks I’m running through the fucking M’s.”

“Can’t see why she’d think that. Not as if you’re ever away from her enough to do anything else, much less shag an entire letter of the alphabet.”

“What?” Matthew looks up from his beer and tries to catch Ioan’s eye.

“Nothing. Look, I’ve got loads of homework.” Ioan stands up and offers Matthew a smile, slightly sheepish. “Moira, Matthew. ‘ve got it.”

**

He’s fastidious after that, calling her by her name enough to annoy her even further. Ioan hears her complaining one night, tucked behind the safety of Matthew’s door, her voice shrill enough to carry.

“It’s like he’s _mocking_ me.”

“By calling you by your name?”

“It’s the _way_ he says it, Matthew. Like he’s got some sort of clever secret. I don’t want to come here anymore.”

Ioan smiles to himself, closing his eyes to savor his victory.

“Let’s go to my flat.”

False victory then. Ioan nods and knocks softly on Matthew’s door.

“Yeah?”

“Just going to head out, mate. Think I’ll take the train home for the long weekend. You two have a nice time, yeah?” He leans his head against the wood, straining to hear dropped voices or whispers.

“Yeah,” Matthew says after a long moment. “You’re leaving tonight?”

“Sure. I’ll see you later. G’night.”

“Night, Ioan.”

He pushes off the door and goes into his own room, shutting his door. In the darkness, in the silence it feels claustrophobic and oppressive and he digs out his duffel bag and shoves clothes in it, paying little mind to what he grabs. Just get out. Be gone. At least if he leaves, he knows where Matthew is.

If Matthew leaves, he hasn’t got a clue.

**

He doesn’t spend much time at the flat after that. After classes, he hangs out in the café or the library, burying himself in books and cups of coffee until it’s late enough to go to the pub. He comes home to sleep and brush his teeth, change clothes and change books and then go again. He leaves Matthew money on the table by the door for whatever things might come up, and sorts through his mail on his way down the stairs.

It works well enough until the one day he opens the door and Matthew’s standing there, sorting through his own mail wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a frown.

“Oh. Sorry.” Ioan moves inside, keeping his distance from Matthew as he heads for his bedroom. “Just need to grab a jacket. Raining out.”

Matthew follows him with his eyes, apparently paying no attention to Ioan’s ramblings. Ioan ducks in his room and leans against the wall, remembering to breathe now that he’s out of Matthew’s sight, not caught in that damned blue gaze.

“Where’ve you been?”

Of course, Matthew was never good at picking up on when he’s not wanted. Ioan opens his eyes and looks over at Matthew standing in the door. “Just busy.”

“You’re never home.”

“Busy. School. Friends. You know.”

“You’re _never_ home.”

“I’m home right now. Just have opposite schedules most of the time, I guess.” He pushes away from the wall and goes over to his chair, wrestling his jacket off of it. “I’ll leave notes if that’s better for you.”

“Notes? I don’t want bloody notes.” Matthew kicks the trashcan beside Ioan’s bed. “I want to know what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing’s going on, Matthew.”

“Three weeks ago I couldn’t turn around without bumping into you, now you’re like a fucking ghost, Gruffudd.”

“I thought you’d appreciate some privacy. You and Moira.”

“Oh.” Matthew laughs, nothing humorous about the sound. “Is that’s what this is about? Moira?”

“It’s not about anything, Matthew. Just busy.” He gets his jacket free and tugs it on. “Look, I’ve got to run.”

“Being with her doesn’t mean I’m not your friend anymore.”

“Of course not, Matthew. No question.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and manages a smile. “I really have to run.” He heads for the door, stopping as Matthew grabs his wrist and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Matthew.”

“Is it so bad that I’m happy?”

“No. No, God. Of course not.” He sinks down next to him, eyes worried as he looks Matthew over. “I want you to be happy. That’s…I was making it worse. She doesn’t like me. She…you like her. I was trying to make it easier.”

“Ioan, do you really think I could be happy with anyone who didn’t treat my friends well? With anyone that would make my _best_ mate feel like he was better off not being a part of my life?”

“It’s easier this way. She’s happy. You’re happy. I’m happy.” He nods despite Matthew’s skeptical look. “I _am_ happy. Happy for you. I really have just been busy.”

Matthew nods and gets to his feet. “All right then. But…I miss you, you know. Miss going out to pubs and watching rugby. Miss _you_.”

“I’ll try and be about more. Promise.” He stands up as well, trying to ignore the heat rising inside him, flooding him like embarrassment and other things he can’t mention, can’t think. He needs to get away, needs to put distance between him so all these things he’s feeling will subside, go back to wherever they came from and leave him alone. “But for now I’ve got to run.”

“Right. ‘Course.” Matthew nods and steps back, out of Ioan’s way. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.” Ioan smiles and heads for the door, willing himself not to look back. “See you.”

**

He does try to make an effort, but the few times he manages to make himself go home, either she’s there or the door’s closed, so after a while, he stops bothering. Matthew tries, Ioan gives him credit, but Moira’s terribly good at making him feel unwelcome, and he wonders how Matthew doesn’t see it. He imagines the sex must be awfully good.

Only he works very, very hard not to imagine the sex at all. It’s not as though he’s not having sex of his own occasionally, but somehow the thought of Matthew doing it with her just makes Ioan shudder. He wishes he knew what it was about her that rubbed him every way wrong, but he can’t put his finger on it, and after a while, he just doesn’t bother to try. He goes back to staying away, seeing Matthew from time to time in classes and quick glimpses here and there, but for the most part, it’s all rather quiet and, if he’s honest with himself, terribly lonely.

“Hey, Gruffudd.” One of his mates comes up to him, clapping his hand on Ioan’s shoulder. “You seen Matthew, mate? He’s not shown up for class for a couple days and I’m supposed to do a bit with him. You tell him to give me a call?”

“What? Oh. Yeah. Course. He’s just come down with a thing. Bug, you know.” Ioan nods mindlessly, blanking out on the rest of the conversation. He’s not been to the flat for a couple of days other than to nick his jacket off his chair a time or two. It’s always been eerily quiet, and so he’d hurried even more, not wanting to be alone in the flat. It was a feeling he had no desire to get used to.

As soon as he can extricate himself, he does, begging off his own classes to rush home. The door’s locked properly and he fumbles with his keys, finally getting it open only to come up short, surprised to see Matthew on the davenport, feet on the coffee table, ankles crossed and a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“You’re home.”

Matthew nods and turns the telly up. Ioan stares at him for a moment then shuts the door, carefully locking it behind him. He turns back and stares a bit more before finally shaking his head and making his way to the kitchen.

“Grab me an ale, yeah?”

A variety of answers come to mind, but Ioan shoves all the smart arsed responses down and grabs two bottles from the icebox before settling next to Matthew. “What are you watching?”

“ _Zardoz_.”

“I’d not realized you were suddenly into masochism.” He starts to say more, snapping his teeth together to resist the impulse. He glances to the side and watches Matthew for a moment before sighing and giving in. “You’ve not been in class for a couple of days.”

“Four.”

“Four?” Ioan knows he sounds like a rather incredulous parrot, but he can’t help it. “Four days?”

Matthew nods and offers the popcorn. Ioan takes a fistful, mostly to keep himself from talking. Matthew eats a few pieces and settles the bowl back in his lap, turning his attention back to the horrific sight of Sean Connery gone to seed and wearing nothing more than a leather thong.

“Four days.” He nods and takes a drink “You’ve been under the weather then?”

“No.” Matthew shifts in his seat, settling more comfortably in the cushions. “Right as rain.”

“Then why’ve you not been in class?”

“Well, I’ve had some news.”

“You’re all right though?”

“As I’ve said, yeah.” Matthew takes a long pull off his beer. “Had some news and meant to share it with you, but as you’ve not been home, I figured I’d best plant my arse on the sofa and wait you out.”

“Oh.” Ioan nods and rubs a line on his jeans. “You’re moving out then?”

“I’m what?” Matthew asks sharply.

“Well, with Moira. I mean, what else would it be, right? I’d assume that would be it.”

“You’d assume that, would you?”

Ioan nods more, feeling a bit like those dogs that are in people’s car windows, head lolling around with no thought or ability to hold itself still. “Yeah.”

“You’re a daft arse.”

“Okay.” Ioan nods yet again and then forces himself to stop. “Not the first time I’ve been called that.”

“Jesus, Ioan. You’ve just…” Matthew exhales an exasperated sigh and gets to his feet, setting the popcorn and his beer bottle on the table. He glares at Ioan and throws up his hands. “You.”

Ioan watches him storm off to his bedroom, turning on the sofa to follow his progress. “Me what?” He asks, his voice raising as Matthew slams his bedroom door. “Me _what_?” He gets off the sofa and follows Matthew’s path, knocking loudly on the door. “Me _what_ , Matthew?”

“You’re a stupid, goddamned fucking arsehole, you prick.”

“Right then. Well. That’s the first time I’ve been called _that_.”

“I’d strangle you in your sleep if you ever fucking _slept_ here.”

Ioan’s beginning to think his head might just nod right off. “Good thing for me that I’ve not then, hmm?”

Matthew throws the door open again. “Stop being such a fucking smart arse about this.”

Ioan shakes his head, which is just as bad as nodding, but at least different. “I’m not being a smart arse, Matthew. A dumb arse, maybe, as I’ve not a fucking clue what you’re on about.”

“I’m not fucking moving out with Moira.”

Ioan’s eyes widen with pure horror. “She’s not bloody moving in here!”

Matthew glares at Ioan, blue eyes flashing. “No she’s not bloody moving in here, you stupid fucking wanker.”

Ioan shoves him and Matthew stumbles, catching the doorknob to keep himself from falling. “Stop calling me names.”

“Well stop acting so bloody daft.”

“Daft?” Something inside Ioan snaps and he shoves Matthew again, pushing him against the bedroom door, holding him there as he hears the knob slam against the wall. “How’s anything been fucking daft, Rhys? You’re always with her, you’re always shut up in here, you’re always on about her, you’re always insisting that I’m fucking things up – I get her name wrong, I get her name right. I can’t fucking win, so tell me how assuming you’re taking things to the next stage with her is so remotely out of the stratosphere of what could be going on in your life.”

“I’ve not seen her for two weeks.”

That stops him. “You’ve not…but…” His mind spins and he blinks at Matthew. Matthew moves away from the door and Ioan’s hands tighten on his shoulders.

“Which you’d _know_ if you were ever bloody around.” Matthew’s voice is low, laced with hurt. Ioan swallows hard and looks at him, surprised to see the same hurt in Matthew’s eyes. “She wasn’t nice to you. She wasn’t nice about you. And you’re worth far more to me than she could ever be.”

“But you _liked_ her.”

“Yeah, I did.” It’s Matthew’s turn to nod, and Ioan watches him closely. He’s not sure what he’s looking for – lies or truth or something in between – but he can’t quite look away. “Doesn’t mean she was right.”

Ioan licks his lips and frowns, feeling the hard furrow between his eyebrows. “So you’ve been waiting here for four days to tell me that?”

“Been waiting longer, mate. Waiting to tell you to come home, to stop hiding from me. Tell you I miss you. Tell you I want you back.” Matthew shrugs and Ioan feels his shoulders move beneath his hands, muscle and sinew. “I have missed you.”

Ioan’s thumbs rub the edge of Matthew’s t-shirt, brushing against his skin. “I’ve missed you too.” He watches his thumbs moving, watches the beat of Matthew’s pulse as it speeds up from the touch. Swallowing hard, he lifts his gaze to Matthew’s mouth. His eyes widen as Matthew’s lips part slightly, the warm breath fanning against Ioan’s. “So…” he searches for something to say, anything to break this moment that’s veering wildly into territory he doesn’t quite understand. “The door’s really been there all along?”

Matthew nods and Ioan’s eyes lift, caught suddenly by the startling blue gaze. “Yeah. Since we got the place.”

“Never noticed it at all.” He swallows and takes a step closer.

“Really?” Matthew’s eyes move from Ioan’s gaze to his mouth. “It has several practical uses.”

“Such as?” Ioan’s hand moves of its own accord, his thumb playing up the column of Matthew’s neck. He strokes his jaw line, feeling the rough stubble there like a shock.

“Privacy, obviously. Sound buffering.” Matthew swallows again hard and shifts and Ioan’s knees waver as he feels Matthew’s body against his. “Hanging on to.”

Ioan glances down to see Matthew’s hand curled around the doorknob in something of a death grip, his knuckles standing out white. “Knees weak?”

“I just…we’ve…”

Matthew’s at a loss for words, and Ioan has to smile. That _never_ happens. “Know something else it might be good for, mate.”

Matthew licks his lips and meets Ioan’s eyes. There’s something between them, something Ioan’s felt forever and never recognized, something he had no idea Matthew felt as well. “What’s that?”

Ioan leans in and kisses him lightly, shifting so that his body is flush against Matthew’s, pressing him back hard against the wood so they can both feel what’s happening before Ioan kisses him again. “It’s terribly good for this.”  



End file.
